


I will buy you a garden

by clicktrack_heart



Category: Hannibal (TV), Pusher (Refn Movies), Trial & Retribution – Fandom
Genre: Drug Use, Homophobic Language, M/M, Past Violence, Rehabilitation, Therapy, hannigram AU, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clicktrack_heart/pseuds/clicktrack_heart
Summary: Tonny and Roberto meet in therapy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic spawned from a prompt from [Tooberto](http://tooberto.tumblr.com/), who is wonderfully inspiring and has the coolest head canons ever. Also [WeConqueratDawn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/weconqueratdawn/pseuds/weconqueratdawn) for giving the best editing guidance! 
> 
> Warning, I haven't actually watched Pusher or Trial & Retribution so this might come off as incredibly OOC!

Their psychiatrist started their session as usual -- with a searching look around the small circle of patients. Tonny saw what Dr. Bloom did, the general run-of-the-mill fuck ups, muttering loonies, and of course, strung out druggies, just like Tonny.

He scowled at himself. It was so fucking hard to keep his hands still, his attention on Dr. Bloom. Yet she, and the other doctors treating him were the key to getting out of here and back to his son.

That was the deal, wasn’t it? If Tonny could complete treatment, Charlotte’s parents would give him a chance at joint custody. They even offered to pay his way through the program. He picked at a ragged thumbnail, wondering how Charlotte turned out the way she did with parents like hers. Some things just couldn’t be explained. There were still some things about his own life he didn’t understand, could barely begin to even think about. 

In a lot of ways, the last few years of his life had felt like a free fall off a cliff, breath held tight for shattering impact. He could change though, break the fall, or cycle, as Dr. Bloom would call it. He had enough incentive now. 

So here he was in London, at an experimental rehab for men under thirty... men like him. He tried not to look at the others too much, not for support or distraction and for the most part he wasn’t tempted. _Nose clean, chin up._ He didn’t need friends.

His booted feet stretched out in front of him and he still didn't feel like he had enough space. He smoothed his hands over his head because he couldn’t stop fidgeting. The peach fuzz of his hair was soft under the rough pads of his fingers. He’d need a buzz soon. 

Dr. Bloom’s determined words kept floating to his ears, muted and faraway as the sound of rain. 

“In case you’ve forgotten you’re all here and part of my group because you need better control of emotions,” she said.

Tonny looked out the window again. It was a rare sunny day. He wondered how long that would last.

Dr. Bloom was still talking. He knew English well enough but it was work, especially when the accent blurred syllables. American. He found himself staring too long at Dr. Bloom’s red lips.

“It’s about reigning in aggressive impulses. You don’t have to let negativity rule you. Yesterday we talked about the importance of interpersonal communication. Today we are going to dive deeper and talk about how the nature of our thoughts can influence us.”

Tonny gazed down at his battered boots, knowing what was going to come next.

“Can someone here please tell me what comes to mind when you think about the world we live in?” Dr. Bloom asked.

A rorschach of blood pooled in Tonny’s mind.The next image came unconsciously, the knife in his hand, his father’s grunts as the blade punctured deep in viscera again and again. 

“I see the world as a violent place,” one voice offered, soft but male. “Sometimes it’s … frightening.”

Tonny startled. He glanced up at the words, but it was the cloying weight of another’s eyes on him that made something in his chest lurch uncomfortably. 

_Him._

The boy that had been the first to speak was staring straight at him with clear blue eyes, blinking long black lashes that belonged on a woman. Dr. Bloom had called him “Berto.” It didn’t fit him, the face of an angel with the name of a thug. Tonny should know, he had known plenty of thugs. 

Though they had never spoken directly, Berto was like no one else Tonny had ever met. He was _pretty_ , maybe even beautiful, but his mind was dark and ugly, at least whenever he bothered to share something in group.

That was one thing Berto and Tonny had in common. They both spoke as little as necessary. 

“Thank you for sharing, Berto,” Dr. Bloom said, smiling gently at the younger man. “Anyone else?”

The room was silent and stiff. Most of the other men wore blank, distant faces. Tonny wanted to make a joke but he kept his mouth shut. 

“What Berto had the bravery to say is very important for all of us,” Dr. Bloom said carefully. “Many people who have experienced something traumatic in their lives adopt certain beliefs and behavioral strategies as a coping mechanism.” 

Dr. Bloom looked around the room, a dark brow arched in question. “What does that have to do with me, right? Is that what you’re asking yourself?”

“The problem is, often times we perceive a situation in a way that is more closely connected to our reactions than the actual situation itself. Does anyone know what I’m referring to?” 

“Life’s a bitch,” Tonny blurted. “Then you die.” 

The men sitting closest to him burst out laughing. Dr. Bloom held up her hand, trying to get them to shut up. Tonny glared angrily, but he couldn’t help but notice as he looked around the room that Berto was the only one who didn’t laugh. He only gave Tonny a small, tight smile. 

“Please,” Dr. Bloom said. “Please continue what you were saying Tonny. There will be no more interruptions, okay?” she said sternly to the rest of the group.

Tonny shrugged, he looked away from Berto to pick at the hole at the knee of his jeans.

“I just mean that -- life is… my worldview is you have to tell people that if they fuck with you what will happen. The world is bad yeah,” he said, glancing at Berto, “but only if you let others take advantage of you.”

“Kill or be eaten might be evolutionary but psychologically speaking it isn’t a healthy perspective Tonny,” Dr. Bloom said. “It is possible to relate to others in a non-violent way. This is what I’m getting at.”

Someone snickered at Dr. Bloom and Tonny sat up straighter, glaring at the skinhead sitting next to Berto. He liked Dr. Bloom, she seemed mostly _decent_ , a rarity in his opinion. He didn’t like it when the boneheads in his group laughed at her.

“I’m going to give everyone a homework assignment for our next session,” Dr. Bloom said. “You are going to show me you can utilize our prosocial skills training and positive peer communities to reach your goals in changing perceptions. How? By sharing something with someone else, helping someone or asking permission to do something before our next session.”

One of the junkies to his right groaned dramatically. Tonny braved another glance at Berto. He wasn’t looking back at Tonny -- too busy gathering his notebook into his messenger bag. Dark waves of hair fell across his forehead. Tonny’s gut tightened at the sight. He reminded himself that men shouldn’t look like that -- pretty rosebud lips, with a slender, tight build.

And a man like Tonny certainly shouldn’t be noticing someone like Berto. Should be disgusted. But it wasn’t his fault Berto looked the way he did, was it? Wasn’t his fault Berto seemed to like to stare at him during Dr. Bloom’s sessions. 

But Berto wasn’t staring at him now. The younger man was looking at Dr. Bloom with a flush on his cheeks. He looked... excited. 

Tonny felt a strange disappointment instead of the relief he expected.

X

Tonny headed back to his room once Dr. Bloom’s session was over. He was tempted to go outside to the courtyard while the weather was nice but he knew that was what most of the others would do. He wasn't here to socialize.

He needed time to think, to consider how he would do what Dr. Bloom wanted. A part of him wanted to do nothing but find drugs. The urge came and went, but it came stronger when he was nervous. He knew there were people here who had stashes. There were so many options out to feel good without bullshit therapy -- a needle in the arm or snort of some cocaine until he passed out with a stupid grin. 

There. Worldview vastly improved. 

But he was locked up, voluntarily, for a reason. Doing drugs wasn’t going to get him back to his son.

His session with Dr. Chilton later in the day went as badly as he expected. Dr. Chilton spent the hour flipping through the police reports in his files and making tsking sounds. 

By the end of their time, Tonny’s fists were clenched so tightly his nails had cut into his palms.

He stayed in his room until dinner. He went to the cafeteria for that, he had to, to get his meal tray. But he sat by himself, careful to avoid contact with the others.

After his meal of grey steak and peas, he headed back to his room again. The hallway to the dorm-style rooms was empty. His steps echoed. 

He tilted his head -- no, not an echo. Light footsteps sounded down the hall, a few feet back. Though he knew it was a paranoia, it felt like someone was following him. Tonny tensed, the blades of his shoulders tightening.

_The world is a violent place._

“Hey, wait up!” 

That voice. Berto.

He started walking forward again, ignoring him. His steps didn’t slow but Berto ran and caught up.

“You’re Tonny, right?” Berto said. Up close, he looked much younger. Maybe only 18. “You never stick around anywhere long do you?” 

“Why?” Tonny asked, drawing himself up to his full height and bristling. “What’s it to you where I am and when?”

“I thought maybe we could work together on Dr. Bloom’s homework. We seem to have similar worldviews is all.”

Tonny stared down at Berto, his rosy complexion and bright eyes. Even his hands were smooth and unscarred from needle marks or fist fights. 

“We aren’t alike,” he said. “Nothing about us is.”

Berto only looked at him for a long moment. Slowly, his smile faded.

“Right. Well then, never mind.” He turned on his heel and started to walk away.

Tonny breathed out. _Stupid, stupid._ “Wait, I didn’t mean-- I’m sorry.”

Berto turned to look at him, his eyes hard. “You didn’t mean you’re an asshole?”

“It’s --” _I’m not a fag,_ he wanted to say, and _that’s what everyone will think if they they see me with you._

Berto lifted his chin, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He gave the impression that he knew exactly what Tonny was thinking and the look he gave Tonny made him feel like the same screw up he had been in Denmark. Where he was less than nothing, even to his own father.

Tonny was supposed to be better than that. He made his own destiny now.

“You’re right,” Tonny admitted. “Guess I let um, perceptions get the better of me. I’m man enough to admit it.”

“Therapy works.” Berto said dryly. “Dr. Bloom would be so proud.”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” Tonny said, though it was a lie. “What's the deal with you and her, anyway? You fucking her?”

“No. She just wants to write a book about me.”

“A book? That's fucked up. What did you do?” 

Now that Tonny was thinking about it, he realized Berto had never explicitly talked about the path that led him to rehabilitative therapy. Tonny tended to zone out a lot during group therapy but he would have remembered something like that. 

Berto leaned forward, nudging him lightly in the shoulder. “Why do you care?” he said mockingly. “Our assignment is sharing, not spilling our guts. My dad is already paying Dr. Bloom enough for that anyway.”

Tonny tried not to think about the fact that Berto touched him, and that he smelled good, like summer, soap with the faintest hint of sweat.

“Don't care about the assignment either,” he said gruffly. “Not here to make friends.”

“I didn’t ask you to be my friend,” Berto said slowly. “I’m asking about the assignment.” 

“So whatever man. We can just make something up. Your precious Dr. Bloom will never know.”

“I'm not going to lie for your ass,” Berto said. “Not unless I get something out of it.”

Finally, language Tonny understood. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Like what?”

Berto smiled. “My room, tonight. I'll show you.”

_X_

Berto took a seat on his bed as soon as he let Tonny in. He was wearing pajama pants and a thin tee-shirt. Tonny elected to stand. He looked around, shuffling from foot to foot. The room felt too small, too barren. Strange considering Berto had definitely been at the rehab center much longer than him.

There was a dog-eared journal on his desk and a photo of Berto with another man, his dad, Tonny supposed -- simply due to their ages, though they looked nothing alike. In the image, the older man smiled proudly while a younger Berto stared emotionlessly into the distance. 

“My dad,” Berto said. “He had a heart attack almost two years ago. He's doing better now.”

He came to stand by Tonny but Tonny backed up at the last second, keeping a safe distance.

Berto cocked his head to the side. “Well. You’re shyer than you look.”

“I thought we were gonna do this dumb assignment.”

“Yeah sure,” Berto drawled. He sat back down on his bed again. “We can do that. But first you have to do something for me.”

“I do favors for friends. I don’t know you.”

“You sure? You watch me a lot. You must see something you like.” 

“Shut up,” Tonny said. “I don’t.”

It was a lie and they both knew it but Berto didn’t laugh, not as Tonny expected him to. He regarded Tonny seriously, without taunting him. 

“Just have a little faith,” he coaxed. “Wait for a second, will you?”

Grudgingly, Tonny gave him a small nod. His arms were tight from clenching against his sides. He felt too warm and he couldn’t remember if he had put on any deodorant. He wondered if Berto could see him sweat. 

But Berto had turned to bend over his mattress. His shirt hitched up to show the creamy skin at the small of his back. 

When Berto faced him again, Tonny’s mouth went bone dry. 

Berto held a syringe and a plastic spoon in one hand, a packet of dope in the other.

“Heard you like this stuff,” Berto said. “Thought we could share?”

“The fuck you thought?” Tonny sputtered. He took one step away and then, changing his mind, another forward to knock the packet of heroin out of Berto’s hand. “I’m not doing that shit with you or anyone else.”

“Jesus!” Berto yelled. “Calm down, will you?”

Tonny barely heard him. His breath was coming too fast, he almost couldn’t breathe. He wanted to shake Berto, knock some sense into him. His hands were hurting, he looked down to see they were balled into tight fists. It was like a splash of icy water against his overheated skin. He couldn’t -- no, he _wouldn’t_.

Very slowly, he let his fingers unfurl. 

He was still breathing harshly, but it was something. He had come down from the sharp edge of his own anger. That, combined with him not punching Berto out, that was something, wasn’t it?

Berto had made no move to pick up the clear baggie of powder from the floor. He looked more intrigued by Tonny’s furious reaction than worried about spilling his drugs. 

“You a junkie?” Tonny asked. “I didn’t peg you for one.”

Berto wrinkled his nose. “Of course not. This was supposed to be an experiment.”

Tonny stared at Berto in disbelief. “An experiment?” 

“I have a hard time sleeping okay? I heard it might help.”

“And you thought I would help you?”

Berto shrugged. “I had hoped--”

“What? You hoped what? You hoped I was stupid? Thought I'd just tap one of your little veins and fill you up with the good stuff?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“What’s it like then?” Tonny demanded. He was angry again, but at least it felt more contained and controlled this time. What he wanted was answers now, not blood. “Tell me.”

“Shh, you’re being too loud.”

“Tell me,” Tonny repeated, his voice lower. “Who told you about me?” 

Berto tried to twist away but Tonny grabbed his arm. Not hard, but enough to keep him still. 

“I heard about you from some of the guys here,” Berto muttered. “They made you sound like the drug lord of Denmark. Clearly that was an exaggeration.” 

Tonny’s mouth dropped open a little in surprise. “I wasn’t a drug lord,” he said. “I was a nobody -- I just pushed product.”

Berto licked his lips. “Yeah, well that’s still more experience than I have. Now, can you let me go.”

Tonny did. “You want to get high, that’s on you,” he told Berto. “I’m not helping you.” 

He looked at the syringe and plastic spoon still clutched limply in Berto’s hand. On second thought, maybe he could.

He bent to pick up the baggie of heroin from the floor, letting the fine dust sift through his fingers under the cover of plastic. Berto stared at him in alarm.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Gonna flush it.”

Berto rose up from the bed in one swift movement. He tried to grab the baggie back from Tonny but he was no match for him. Tonny shoved him back, holding his wrists tight in one hand. 

Berto persisted. Even trying to kick at him. 

“You idiot! You don’t know what I had to go through to get that!” 

“What?” Tonny said. He laughed at the murderous look in Berto’s eyes. “A guy like you? You wouldn’t know hard work if…” Berto looked away, his cheeks coloring. Tonny felt suddenly ill. “Or did you get down on your knees, is that it? Is that how you get what you want?”

“It works,” Berto snapped, his face flushed with anger. “Everybody wants something, don’t they? What do you want, huh?” 

“Nothing,” Tonny said. But the thought of Berto on his knees, pink lips stretching wide around Tonny’s cock as Tonny told him to _take it_ had surfaced, hotter than any porn he could think of. He shook his head, trying to clear the vivid image as if it were drops of rain he could shake off. Berto servicing him. He had watched porn like that before, girls doing stuff for money. Pretending. For Tonny, it was better than thinking about why the women he fucked never stayed too long. But it mattered that Berto had been used like that and he didn’t want to pick apart why.

Berto reached for him, weaving arms across his shoulders. For a terrible second, Tonny thought he wanted to fight. He was shocked when he realized Berto was trying to press their mouths together -- _to kiss_. Feverish want pooled in Tonny’s belly, terrifying -- and real. He wrenched Berto away. 

“I -- No,” he managed. “No.” He took rapid, short breaths, trying to find air where there wasn’t. Trying not to look at Berto and failing. 

Berto had fallen back on the bed. He pulled himself up with his legs folded beneath him and sat still. One hand was pressed tight against his mouth as though Tonny had slapped him or, as though he was holding in a scream. 

“I can’t,” Tonny said. “Not like that.”

“Not like that,” Berto repeated, his voice dull. He stared at Tonny with bright, shining eyes. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Tonny didn't defend himself, he just looked helplessly at Berto, and It only seemed to enrage him more -- he shoved Tonny away from him. 

“Fuck you, you liar! You coward!”

“Berto--”

“No! You don’t get to judge me! You don’t even know what I’ve done! Horrible things that your junkie brain can’t even imagine!”

“Dr. Bloom says it’s going to get better but it isn’t! Every night I wake up fucking screaming so just get the fuck out! You don’t know anything about me!” Berto got up from the bed to push Tonny again, this time towards the door. 

Tonny opened his mouth then closed it. He couldn’t speak. Didn’t know what to say. Foreign words slipped like eel in his head. 

“You want me to go? I’ll go,” Tonny muttered roughly. “But this is garbage.” He pocketed the heroin. He said he’d flush it as soon as he could and he meant it.

He wasn't going to take it to his room either, not where the lone photo, and only reminder of his son was. 

Berto’s cold voice stopped him just as his fingers grazed the door knob. 

“I could tell Dr. Bloom things about you, so you’ll never get out of here,” he sneered. 

Anger pulsed hot in Tonny again, strong enough to punch Berto’s wall and leave a hole in it. He swallowed his rage, speaking through the fist around his throat.

“Go on,” he said. “Do it.”

He couldn’t resist slamming Berto’s door shut. 

He stomped back to his room, boots landing like kicks against the hard floor. His clothes were itchy, he had to get them off. They fell by his bed in a crumpled heap. His cock was hard, leaking against his worn boxers. The thought of Berto on his knees made him furious. He was angry with Berto, with himself, with the world, even as his dick twitched stubbornly. He grabbed one of his pillows and screamed into it until his voice was hoarse, his eyes bleary.

He pressed his dick as hard as he could into the mattress, letting the springs stab him, punishing him for his sins.

X

Tonny woke up in a foul mood the next morning, his stomach full of knots.

He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth aggressively, practically snarling at his own skull-like reflection.

_Every night I wake up fucking screaming so just get the fuck out!_

The words echoed in his mind even as Berto avoided him all day. Tonny saw him in their session with Dr. Bloom, where they both admitted they hadn’t done the assignment. Berto looked -- much better than Tonny. There weren’t shadows under his eyes and he smiled at everyone in the room other than Tonny. 

Stupid brat. But Tonny was more annoyed with himself than Berto. Berto had never appeared more friendly to anyone other than him or Dr. Bloom as far as Tonny knew. The artless manipulation was getting to him more than it should. 

Later, in one of the hallways, he saw Berto leaving Dr. Chilton’s office. The two of them lingered right outside the door, talking to each other in soft voices. Chilton was just barely taller than Berto but he seemed to lean into him, making Berto look smaller. When Chilton touched Berto’s arm, Tonny bit his lip hard. 

He turned around and headed the other direction before he could do something dumb.

Tonny told himself he and Berto were nothing to each other. Berto was a pretty face and Tonny was lonely. Vulnerable. Berto was just trying to use him like any other John.

Tonny didn’t even like guys. But then he thought of Berto’s dark curls, his pouty lips.

 _Okay, fuck it._ Maybe he did like guys. Just one anyway. 

But Berto was impossible -- he had serious problems that would probably keep him at the institution longer than Tonny. He was a lot smarter too, always saying confusing things that made Tonny want to pay more attention but only left him feeling more clueless. 

Berto had called him a liar and a coward. Tonny had been called worse but it had never felt like this -- a dull ache spreading like ink when he thought about what Berto had done to him. 

The harder part was deciding what to do about it.

X

He rarely talked to the other guys in his program but he could easily point to several others that had been pushers like him. It wasn’t like they had shared territories or anything, or even countries. It was their overall look that marked them: squirely, always on the move.

He cornered one in one of the community bathrooms. A short guy in his early twenties with bad skin and tattooed arms. 

“I need some product.”

The man snorted, giving him an amused look. “You want product now? After you’ve been all holier than thou for the past month?”

“Do you have it or not?” Tonny asked, irritably.

“It depends. What you want?”

Tonny told him.

The pusher burst out laughing. “That? For real? I have better stock. Stuff that will have you seeing stars for days.”

Tonny shoved him hard, until his back was flat against the wall.

“I told you what I want. I didn’t ask you for your fucking opinion on it.”

“Yeah, sure,” the dealer said quickly. “Whatever you want. I was just kidding.”

Tonny stared at him for a long moment, tilting his head to the side. 

“You're afraid of me.”

The pusher tried to look away, throat clicking as he swallowed. “I heard you killed people.”

An image flickered in Tonny’s mind -- blood filling the creases of a leather sofa, his father still struggling for air. 

The dealer made a pitiful sound.

“I’ll leave you alone once we make this deal,” Tonny said. He thought for a moment to himself. “Don't want you dealing to Berto either. Stay away from him.”

The dealer nodded fast, like a bobble head. Tonny told him he would give $50. He felt a small pang at that -- the money was supposed to be part of a gift for his son once he got out. 

He swore to himself he would make it up to him.

X

Dinner was limp pasta topped with flavorless red sauce. It was worse than the prison food in Denmark, really. Tonny ate quickly by himself, eager to get his food down so he could find Berto.

Once he was finished he went out to the courtyard -- glaring back at anyone who stared at him.

Outside, the sun was still sharp and bright. He had to shield his eyes before he saw Berto sitting at one of the picnic tables, directly under a gold beam of light. The glow of the sun made him look even more ethereal, like a young prince from a fairy tale. Like in a Hans Christian Andersen story, Tonny thought, the kind he heard at school when he was little. 

Tonny saw Berto was writing into a journal with furious flourishes of his pencil, his expression distant and closed off. He didn't look up to see Tonny waiting, staring at him. After so much time spent wanting to be invisible, it was strange for Tonny to want to be noticed. 

His throat closed up. He turned around to go back inside, only this time his way was blocked by an arm across the entrance inside. 

“Hey, I got your message,” said the owner of the arm, a man. He was about the same age as Tonny but taller, thick and corded with muscle, his hair an ugly orange. 

He looked Tonny up and down, trying to make him feel small. 

“You want something from me or my boys?” he asked. “The answer is no. You gotta ask pretty, just like your little friend did.” The man gestured rudely behind Tonny to where Berto sat.

Berto looked back at them. Well at least Tonny had his attention now. 

“Fuck off Carrot Top,” Tonny said. Not his best, but serviceable, under the circumstances. 

Carrot Top swung first. Tonny got his arms up to block him, trying to get a jab in too late. Carrot Top came at him with a grunt and the force of a bull. Tonny fell back, ready for the blows as Carrot Top advanced. There was a blur of movement. 

Berto had jumped on Carrot Top’s back, twining arms around his thick neck and applying pressure. Berto had surprising strength; it was a good choke hold and Carrot Top sputtered, trying to heave Berto off. 

Tonny got up to help him, to pummel Carrot Top the way he deserved. He had barely raised his fists when something knocked hard against the back of his head.

Lights out.

X

He woke up in the med center. A nurse treated him for his migraine, checking the fresh bruise on his skull before it was determined that he was allowed to leave. He couldn’t get much information out of the nurse either, only that she knew there had been a fight but that he wasn’t in trouble because he hadn’t instigated it, according to whoever broke it up.

She hadn’t seen Berto either, meaning he probably hadn’t gotten hurt. Tonny thanked her and left. 

The next day, Dr. Bloom told their therapy group that Berto was “working on some issues” in solitary. Tonny had never even had that, even in his past incarceration. The whole idea made him uneasy -- trapped in a room for hours, your mind left to fester like stinking, overripe fruit. Confinement was a rarity in Danish prisons, but in England it was clearly different, even in a so-called liberal rehabilitation program.

Chilton dropped a thick folder on his desk, demanding Tonny's attention.

“Oh, are you ready to join me?” Chilton asked sarcastically. 

Tonny glared but nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Chilton sat, leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence. He looked at Tonny with an altogether familiar expression, one of absolute distaste. Tonny wondered if it was fixed there permanently.

“Why are you here, Tonny?”

“You know why.”

“Do I? When I look at you and your case, I see an angry young man who struggles with willpower. The drugs, the women… what makes you think you can care for a child, hmm? That you can be counted on?”

“I've done my time,” Tonny said, trying not to grit his teeth. “I go to all my sessions. I keep my hands clean now.”

“Did you keep your hands clean with Roberto Bellini? I heard that he interfered in a fight on your behalf. 

Tonny couldn't help his clenched jaw. Chilton saw it, smiling smugly.

“It was a good strategy for keeping one’s hands clean, I suppose, but you’re still exhibiting poor impulse control,” he said, jotting something in his notepad. 

When Chilton glanced up again, there was a strange, calculating light in his beady eyes.

“This is indelicate but I must ask. You don’t have -- feelings for Roberto, do you?”

Tonny was suddenly too warm but he looked Chilton head on. 

“So what if I do? You don’t treat homos or something?” 

“No, no, nothing so gauche,” Chilton said. “As your doctor, it would be remiss of me to not advise you on risky behaviors... though Roberto Bellini is not without charm.” He winked at Tonny as if they were co-conspirators. 

“Is he going to get out of solitary soon?” The question bubbled out of Tonny before he could swallow it. 

Dr. Chilton laughed. “Well! Roberto certainly did a number on you. To answer your question, yes, I suspect, and soon. He’s quite the pet of Dr. Bloom. She really likes her strays, doesn’t she?”

Tonny thought of Berto in the moments before the fight with Carrot Top, sitting alone in the courtyard as he wrote in his battered notebook. 

“He’s a person -- not a stray.” 

“Roberto Bellini is a murderer, and more than likely a borderline sociopath. His connection to humanity is tenuous at best. Oh, did you really think he liked you?” Dr. Chilton asked.

The sound of his laughter followed Tonny down the hall to his room.

X 

It was almost a week before Tonny saw Berto again.

In therapy, there he was, across from Tonny in the circle of bodies, as though nothing had happened. Tonny took a seat in his normal spot, somehow relieved but trying not to show it. Berto didn’t speak in the session, he shared no cryptic talk of his dreams or the dark corners of his mind. 

Dr. Bloom said nothing of his return, of the purple bruise under his eye or the mussed hair. Tonny sat still for the hour, memorizing the new details.

X 

He followed Berto after Dr. Bloom released them.

It didn’t take long for Berto to stop and turn.

“You do know I’m kind of a flight risk at the moment, right? Probably best to keep your distance in case it’s contagious.” 

“You helped me and got in trouble for it,” Tonny said stubbornly. 

“No, I helped myself and it was _fun_ ,” Berto said, baring his teeth a little. ”I’d do it again too. You just happened to be there.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. Jesus, are you always this thick?”

Tonny frowned.

“You’re the confusing one.”

Berto laughed but the sound of it was more bewildered than malicious. 

Tonny decided it was now or never. 

“I know you might not want to talk, but I got something for you. If you want.”

Berto blinked, pulling the long sleeves of his shirt over his hands. He didn’t speak. 

“It’s in my room,” Tonny said, keeping voice low. He motioned down the hall.

He wasn’t sure Berto would follow, but then there were footsteps behind him, the warmth of Berto close to his back. 

He pushed open the door to the room and they went inside together. 

Berto looked around with wide eyes. Tonny knew his room had a lot more to see than Berto’s did. There were Nine Inch Nails CDs scattered on his dresser and on the wall above, a poster of a woman in a red bikini with her legs spread, glossy lips parted. 

Tonny was a little embarrassed about that, he had forgotten it was even there. 

Berto looked at it but didn’t say anything. He only lingered at the photo of Tonny’s son on his desk. 

“So this is where you hide all the time.”

“Were you looking for me?” Tonny asked. 

Berto stiffened. “I wasn’t stalking you if that’s what you’re implying. I’m not desperate.” 

“Well I'm not hiding,” Tonny said. “I just need to be on my own sometimes. Remind myself why I'm here before I let my temper get the best of me.”

Tonny watched as Berto picked up the photo of his son, examining it more closely. 

Tonny tried to see it as he might -- a chubby infant with apple-pink cheeks swaddled in a puffy blue parka. Tonny held him in the photo, barely smiling and exhausted from his train ride from Denmark. The next day he would go to rehab. 

“Your son?” Berto asked.

“Yeah,” Tonny said, biting his lip. He waited for a sarcastic comment from Berto but none came. Instead, Berto set the framed photo back gently on the desk. He looked over his shoulder, arching his brow. 

“Well? You said you had something for me.” 

“Yes.”

Tonny’s stomach fluttered uneasily, but he went to his mattress and pulled it up halfway anyway. He ran his hand over the quilted covering until he found the small section he had cut last week. 

“Better to hide things this way, harder to find.”

He showed Berto how he had cut a flap of fabric in the mattress. He slipped his fingers in, digging past the springs and cotton until he found the small plastic bag. He got it out from the hole, setting his mattress back into its frame. 

He showed Berto the bag of weed he bought. Enough hash for about two joints. 

Berto gave him a skeptical look. 

“You think that's going to help me.”

“Have you tried it?”

“No,” Berto said. He took a seat on Tonny’s bed, long legs out in front of him. “I misspent my youth in other ways.”

Tonny laughed at that. “You're full of it. You're still young.”

“I don't feel young.”

Tonny frowned. He had already started prepping their joint, rolling the paper tight around the few pinches he had pulled of the dried green herb. He used the tip of his finger to pack the end.

“Sometimes you just need a little something to take the edge off. Smoking never killed anyone.”

“Doesn’t sound that great then.”

“Just come here.”

Berto rose up from the bed, arching his brow expectantly at Tonny. 

Tonny lit the joint, letting the smoke swirl around them. The scent was pungent and earthy. 

He offered it to Berto. 

Berto took the joint with gentle fingers. He touched it to his lips, drawing a shaky, quick inhale. Almost instantly he started to cough. It took a while for him to stop. 

“You’re doing it too fast,” Tonny instructed. “You gotta hold it in your mouth a little deeper before you let go.”

Berto frowned, rubbing at his watery eyes. But he took another hit from the joint, pursing his mouth and exhaling. This time, no coughs. 

“How was that?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Tonny said. “Think you got it now.”

Berto took a few more hits.

“Kind of stings on your throat a bit, doesn’t it?”

“It gets better.”

“You must’ve done this a lot,” Berto said.

Tonny thought back on his years as a teen, it felt like a muddled, confusing blur now. “Wish it was all I had done.”

“Did you do a lot of things you regret?”

“No, not so much then. That came later. When I was older. When I was a kid, weed was just good for making shitty things funny. Somehow it made things easier.”

He spoke briefly about his absent father, longer about the majority of his time in school spent in detention. Berto was quiet, listening. Tonny felt no judgement, only interest and it truly felt good to talk. Even just those few sentences. Eventually they sat in comfortable silence. Berto took another drag off the joint. 

“When I was like thirteen, I got caught by a teacher smoking a spliff in the bathroom,” Tonny said.

“What did you do?” 

“I thought I was going to get in so much trouble but all he did was take a big whiff of the smoke and ask me for some.”

“You give it to him?”

“No way, I told him to get his own!”

Berto laughed. He was clearly stoned -- his face was flushed, his pupils dilated but he kept staring at Tonny like he was important. Tonny imagined Berto was starting to feel pretty good by now. 

“Light weight,” he teased. “You doing okay?” 

“Mmm, yes. I think? I feel. Kind of soft. Like I’m underneath a lot of blankets. It’s-- it feels like the way you look at me in therapy sometimes.”

Tonny’s heart did something funny. 

“Does it feel… good?”

“Yeah.” 

Tonny swallowed. “I'm not gay.”

“But you like me.”

Tonny bowed his head. His pulse felt impossibly loud drumming in his ears the way it did.

“Wish I could smoke too,” he muttered.

“Why can’t you? Whatever you did, you can't punish yourself forever, right?” Berto asked. Tonny got the feeling the question wasn't just meant for him.

“It’s not -- it’s my son,” Tonny said. “When I get out of here I get to take care of him again. If I can stay clean.”

Berto gave him a slow, lazy smile. 

“They only drug test for the harder stuff, and only once every six months or so. They don’t have the budget for anything else.”

“How do you know?”

“Been here long enough,” Berto said. “But you don’t have to trust me if you don’t want to. I get it.”

“Give me that,” Tonny said. Berto gave him the joint.

Tonny brought it to his lips. The end was still wet and warm from Berto’s mouth. He sucked in a deep breath, drawing the dry, smoky flavor of the weed into his lungs.

When he breathed out, his breath curled like a serpent around Berto’s lips.

He hadn’t realized they were sitting so close, knees touching until Berto made a small sound. 

“Come here,” Tonny said. He took another hit and tilted his head down, let the smoke trail over Berto’s face just like the way he wanted to touch him. 

Berto’s lips parted. “That’s -- wow.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t know what I’m doing. Not used to being this sober when I do stuff.”

“But you want it, right? You like me?”

Berto had wiggled onto his lap.

“Fuck,” Tonny said. “Hang on--” he used his thumb to smush the cherry at the end of their spliff. Then he tossed it in the waste bin. He would get rid of it tomorrow.

When his hands were free, he ran his fingers up the back of Berto’s arms, feeling the tiny pricks of his goosebumps. He felt no disgust, or fear, just desire, warm and electric in his stomach.

“I like you. A lot,” Tonny admitted. 

Berto cupped his face with gentle hands and Tonny bridged the gap. He pressed his mouth to Berto’s, almost tentatively, before letting his tongue explore. Soft little licks turned to long kisses, breathless and needy. 

Berto’s back arched and he made a purring sound before sucking Tonny's lower lip into his mouth. They kissed for a long time. Tonny brought his hands to Berto’s waist, caressing the smooth dip of skin below his tee. 

It was better than Tonny could have ever imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! I'm tempted to write a part two if there's interest? :)
> 
> Send me stuff at [EmCWrites on Tumblr](http://em-c-writes.tumblr.com/).


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